All sane with a pinch of madness

There’s a rumor going around that I might be bipolar.

This is insulting.

Just because I look like a planet is absolutely no reason for people to get nasty.

Personally the term bipolar brings to my head this image of a polar bear that swings both ways.

Anyhow.

Since the possibility exists that what I am maybe actually a medical condition, I felt that I need to explore the matter, after which, I aim to ignore it completely.

I am jobless that way. Some one once asked me, if people's opinion of me matters to me. I would not be blogging if it did.

So with the help of a friend, who has tremendous experience dealing with someone who has this condition, I set out to find out more about this.

I am also the king of denials. My wife can attest to this fact.

It’s never my fault. Ask her.

The problem is I am so good at fooling myself; I am not sure if I will be able to see if truth stands in front of me and does a strip tease.

I do not think I am bipolar but this, if it turns out to be the case, gives me the perfect excuse for all my actions hence forth.

It will be my very own Get Out of Jail Free card.

My own PMS.

This will be great.

So, I did a survey.

I spoke to my friends.

The conversation went like this.

Me (on the phone): Hey, Hi. I just wanted to ask you a question.
Bloke friend: No. I didn’t borrow any money from you.
Me: No no. It’s something else.
Bloke: Oh, ok. Shoot.
Me: Do you think I am crazy?
Bloke: yeah man, totally. You are the craziest arsehole I know.
Me: no you fuck face. Do you think I am, like, you know? Mentally unstable?
Bloke: Of course man. You are totally insane.
Me: oh, fuck it. Where’s the cash you owe me?
Bloke: you are crazy; I never borrowed any money from you. You are just imagining things. Go see a shrink.


I come away confused.

You really can’t ask a male friend if you are crazy. They just lack perspective.

So I turned to my girl friends. Well, actually they are all my wife's friends. There's this unspoken deal between my wife and them that they should check in on me once in a while, since she’s not here anymore. My wife is convinced that I will loss the plot when she’s not there to buffer me from myself.

So I called them.

Women.

Me: Hey, do you think I am bipolar?
She: Totally.
Me: Do you even know what bipolar is?
She: Totally.
Me: Enlighten me.
She: It’s what you have.
Me: And that is?
She: You know? Where you swing between moods.
Me: I most definitely do not swing between moods. Fuck man, that sounds like a fucking monkey.
She: Will you stop swearing? I am going to tell mads.
Me: Fine. You go fucking tell mads that I am fucking swinging between moods.
She: Fine.
Me: Fuck you.
She: I don’t even know why I bother.
Me: You really think I am bipolar? I don’t feel like a bipolar.
She: Well maybe not exactly bipolar but there's something definitely wrong with you.
Me: What the fuck do you mean there's something wrong with me?
She: You are not exactly normal.
Me: Of course I am not normal, that is my whole USP. This me is a finely chiseled put together piece of art. One of a kind.
She: Fuck you tys.
Me: I am serious, I am yet to meet another me.
She: Fuck you. You know very well what I mean.
Me: Yeah (I don’t)
She: You need help.
Me: No, I just need sex.
She: Go fuck yourself. I am going to tell mads.
Me: Don’t flatter yourself. I am a far better company to myself than you can ever hope to be.
She: What?
Me: Never mind. Bye.

I am not convinced. So I asked mads.

Me: hey mads, how’s it going?
Mads: work. What about you?
Me: iam fine. Hey, do you think there’s something wrong with me?
Mads: like what?
Me: you know, the kind of person I am is due to some medical condition.
Mads: there’s nothing wrong with you.
Me: you sure? I mean, sometimes I don’t connect. I see things differently. I am unable to connect. The core is unaffected inside. Things happen on the surface and subside. Is that normal? Maybe the whole thing is just a mental disorder.
Mads: You are just alone tys. You are seeking some sort of validation. Just come home.
Me: Yeah. Soon.

Inside. None of it matters. These answers.

But a guy can still play with himself, can't he?

Next , the shrink.

I think I just hit the mother lode of material for my deprived blog.

Maybe we can start a bookie thingy here. Is he or isnt he? Maybe I might put up a poll here. We will take bets. Fortunes will be won and lost here.

The odds are against me.


My favourite bipolar joke :

I don't believe in Satan, I just think God has Bipolar Disorder

Sex and other such nonsense

Aah the pleasure of coming back here and seeing all those empty chairs.

Standing on this platform speaking to an empty void seems like the time I shouted 'I can’t hear you' from the viewing platform in Ponmudi to hear the echo shout back at me, repeatedly, my words, until it faded like dispersed fog. I was 12.

Nothing has changed.

I still have to talk to hear myself.

And you, my silent listener is the choiceful victim, led here by your fingers and hopefully staying here for your own reasons.

What shall we talk about today?

Let’s talk about sex.

Really. Let us truly talk about it.

Considering that I haven’t been having it for a very long time, you might understand and perhaps will not be harsh in your judgment of me, for bringing up a subject that for some, will be uncomfortable.

We will not lose focus and study why something that your parents did which resulted in you, is an embarrassing topic. We will not bother with why seeing naked people inserting, penetrating, sweating, licking, holding, which in a single beautifully descriptive word is called fucking, makes some cringe, while the same will watch with no discomfort the killing, maiming or other gores acts we commit to each other.

We will not bother with all that. We all have our reasons. So we will respect that and leave that alone.

We will not discuss what arouses us.

Is it what we see, or what we hear or what we read and what we taste? , or is it what they wear, or what they represent or what they do?

We will not go into all that. It happens. We do get aroused.

We will not discuss rape. Why some of us are uncomfortable with discussing it. Why we attach shame to an act where the victim gets raped twice. First by the rapist and then by the society.

Fuck all that.

We can discuss about masturbation, if that’s okay with you. But I guess you won’t. Act of self pleasure that can, if used correctly, is the remedy for sexual impulses.

Feel ridiculously horny?

Wank off. Go on.

Its way better than trying to seduce your secretary or your boss or your ex flame or your husbands best friend or forcing yourself on your maid or paying for an hour of tryst with a stranger. It’s more economical and less stressful.

And consider the range. For a person who likes multiple partners in real flesh, is still limited by the number of actual people who will respond to his or her needs. But for a well self trained masturbator, the world is his /her range. Everyone is available. All possibilities exist for you.

Wanna do some one? Anyone? This is your solution. You do hold the world in your hands.

Briefly.

After which you are requested to wash your hand and face the world with that out of your mind.

But we will not talk about it. I can see your discomfort. I can see the nervous giggle. I can see you looking over your shoulder to see if anyone can see what you are reading. I can see you calling your friend over to read it with you and laugh, so that in the pecking order of peer group all things that are shared are fine.

Prostitution.

My friend, philosophies that to drink milk one need not buy a cow, but merely go to the supermarket and take your pick.

Demand and supply.

That’s about it. We need not go there. We can get academic about it. We can, if you want, talk passionately about the violent crimes that revolve around it. We can get our pulses racing about issues like human trafficking, the abuses, children sold into it. We can go on. But we won’t.

Here we will stick to sex. The kind that involves feelings, that happens between consenting people. The one that involves some amount of foreplay, then the act and possibly some post coital rituals like a cuddle or a smoke or some innane conversation.

You will now ask me what about orgies, what about teenage sex, what about voyeurism, porn, ménage a trios, wife swapping, affairs, etc.

You might even ask me if our discussion will involve more than just sex, will we talk about tools. Handcuffs, whips, lubes, costumes, chocolate syrup....

I say why not. Yes there is consent. That’s the sex we are planning to talk about.

Now what is it we were talking about?

Ah, sex.

There isn’t much we can talk about it when its stripped off all its clothes, is there?

Much like an onion.

Like the saying goes: Just do it.